


reflections under the moonlight

by sapphickagero



Category: Fire Emblem: If | Fire Emblem: Fates
Genre: Cuddling, F/M, Ficlet, Kissing, Mentions of other characters - Freeform, Post War, Self-Indulgent, They're a lil older, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-21
Updated: 2020-10-21
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:35:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27135997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sapphickagero/pseuds/sapphickagero
Summary: After his return from a long visit away from home does Saizo reflect about a few things that night.
Relationships: Camilla/Saizo (Fire Emblem)
Kudos: 5





	reflections under the moonlight

“That was a long sigh just then, darling.”

As the silken words touches his hearing does Saizo find himself blinking back into the present moment, his breath a lingering heaviness upon his lips. He only just comes upon the realization that his fingers are shaken with motions of trembling, sunken into the dark coverings of the bed near where long curls of pallid lavender are splayed about. The long tresses guide his vision to the sight of soft and deeply scarred features illuminated with the dulled silver glow of both the stars and the moonlight, with the shadowy fingers of the night ever gently touching her skin, as if caressed by the darkness. And even as he is right there, occupying the space nearest to her, so close that he’ll touch her with ease, does Saizo stumble upon the realization of missing someone even when they are so close.

Camilla has long proved herself to seemingly be of the ability to peer into the privacy of his mind and even now does she seem like she is able to read his thoughts as she reaches for him. Her magenta eyes aglow with the touches of the moon’s light that are kisses against her skin, only just hidden beneath the black silk of her night clothing. 

“You need not say a word, darling. I know that you will speak if you wish to.”

As always are her fingertips are taken with warmth to the touch and coming to cup the sharp cheek of Saizo. Her touch softly urges his return into the present moments, mind no longer plagued by memories of a war that has long passed. It is his first night of return from a diplomatic mission to Hoshido and Saizo finds it strange if not purely frustrating — all that he has thought of in those long months in Castle Shirasagi was holding Camilla close to him, sleeping in peace as he feels her head against his beating heart. And yet in this night he cannot stop his contemplation, a mixture of thoughts of the volatile political environment of Hoshido, memories of the war coming to plague his mind, and most of all thoughts about her.

Thinking about the first time that the first he had allowed another to grow close to him had been her of all people upon that wintry evening in the midst of the war, sitting outside of Kagero’s room as she had recovered (Charlotte had forced her way into the room with the healers, taking precedence over all others concerned for her). Back when she had first laid a hand upon his shoulder in comfort with a touch that had been so foreign, the dusky light of the evening gleaming about the tresses colored lightly, the onyx of her crown appearing as if the blackened halo of an angel fallen from the heavens.

“Your partner is a strong woman , Saizo.” For once had her words not been tinged with the saccharine sweetness presented as a facade before the world. She had been straight to the point and blunt, strange for her he had believed, and yet all the more comforting. “You should not worry so much, she’ll not fall to such a silly little wound. I would be proud to call her my comrade.”

And that had been the beginning of … Well, everything.

Once more is he brought into the present by what he should be doing at this moment, a reiteration of the fact that he is far too embroiled within his own thoughts when he should be with her right at this moment in both mind and body. He has, after all, over through these years, grown fond of both the embraces and the touches she is not hesitant to lavish upon him as well as his own pastime of caressing her skin, assuring him that she is still there (even years separating the end of the war does he require the assurance to this day). And it almost had seemed like a rule left unspoken that he dose it as much as possible when they are alone together, whether within the confines of their bed or beneath the glow of the shining stars of the night. 

He even has made it a point to touch her as much as possible and contrary to the beliefs held by most of their allies, Saizo is of the ability to be quite expressive. Well, perhaps she had been the one to help him open up his expressions and explore what he truly feels — there are very few people who know to find his buttons and be able to push them.  
Though the flower of curiosity may have blossomed within Camilla first, he certainly had not been exempt from his need to explore and know her — to search for all of her own buttons and learn how to press them so that he discovered all of the facets to her that she kept neatly tied underneath a surface of charming yet ever biting words.

He had long come to learn that decorating her fingers with the kisses as he holds her hand so gingerly to his face, always brightens her dark magenta eyes, a sparkle of amusement alike the rubies shining in the light of the sun. He also well knows of how fond she is of when his hand comes to rest upon the curves of her waist, fingers ever softly kneading into the softness of her skin, and drawing the softest of smiles as she comes to pull him closer in response. Each and every time does his hand fin its resting place upon her waist does she gift him a laugh and a smile, a sight that is ever so simplistic and yet so powerful — a genuine smile upon her lips is an image so powerful to withstand.

Perhaps it is his occupation with these thoughts that give away the deeply ingrained lines that have descended from his long concentration and expression of intensity that has nearly always been a fixture of permanence upon his features. And giving way into the soft, deft concern that plays upon her lips. 

“If you’re worried about your hair, darling. Then don’t! I think the new silver looks quite attractive on you.” When she laughs with but the softest touches of amusement, it is soft and ever discreetly sweet, just like the petals of the cheery blossoms that fall upon his skin. And her skillful fingers convey the same petal feeling as they course through his tresses of scarlet now ascending into shades of various silvers with the closing of his youthful years.

He could hardly claim himself to be a man of sentimentality, he had found little use for the romanticized notions of love and adoration — not until her. And now, now he he collects each and every emotion that she expresses, as if a collection of portraits kept in a museum to be adored always and never to fade from memory for even the slightest of moments.

Not that he’ll so willingly express those romantic sentiments — sentiments he would have shrugged off as a youthful ninja, a grunt embroiling his throat because those feelings simply belonged to fools.

“Why should I worry about my hair? He comes to question, each one of his words mingling with the heaviness of an exhale as he feels her fingers trailing through his tresses, as if it is her first time in admiration of his hair. “it is a natural consequence of aging. And why should I not be proud of the age I have reached?” To this reaction does Camilla raise her head with a tilt, a revelation of the bareness of her neck, eyes like a playful cat’s in amusement of his words, lips only just quirked up.

“You just looked so frustrated, darling.” Her silken voice claims, warm to the touch of his hearing. “I couldn’t help but worry about my poor Saizo.”

“You do not need to worry about such a petty thing, Camilla.” He claims as he shifts his body to the side gain a better view of her, peering upon curls once colored lavender and now appearing silver purple in their nature — but by the gods was she still beautiful as ever.

And only then does he reach to touch her, a trail against the soft curve of her cheek, a fleeting pale scarlet following his fingers long calloused by years of work and scarred by war.

Though he has felt her thousands of times before —- committed to memory like all of their shared affections — connecting with her is always akin to the force of a tsunami. Often in those early days did he think it was like receiving an embrace from a goddess revered by all — dwindled to insignificance while meeting the face o her warmth(though even before het truly knew her did Camilla maintain a presence larger than any other. He had not able to resist the temptation to surrender to her, the flame that would kiss his throat with affection or burn away until nothing was left had he twisted himself into the roots of betrayal).  
Now does he succumb to her with an open willingness of his heart and furthering the pattern of surrendering to her time after time and not meeting the gates of failure.

“I do not believe that worrying about my dearly beloved husband is such a petty thing.” Camilla murmurs, her words mingling with a touch of teasing, before she is leaning to press her lips against against his steeled jaw, over the skin now touched with wrinkles from all of these years, wrinkles that she has explored with such a degree of intensity — she is unafraid to express her own affections even as time passes them by. And continuing with her light tease are lightly scraping against the sensitive flesh upon his neck, never failing to have him shudder with unexpected pleasure.

“And yet you are here, biting him.” His voice drops lowly, hardened as if a blade against stone, even if he means not a word of his scold. “Such wifely concern that you have.” Sarcasm melts from each word parting his lips, though he bears no anger in truth as he allows for Camilla to wind her arms about his neck, head nestling in its rightful place upon his shoulder.

“Oh, don’t be so mean, dear husband.” Airily does Camilla laugh, once more pressing her cheek against his skin. Even with her own voice of teasing do her cheeks feel heated, making a strange sort of comforting warmth against his own cool temperature. 

And yet again is there that rush of a feeling yet unnamed to him building within his chest, a threat to overflow him and threatening to ruin the composure that he has so carefully maintained (time and time again does he feel this in the moments that he first touches her, even after all of these years). He feels electricity at his fingertips — as if he is once more a young boy only to gaze upon his crush, the light of his life at the — and only further solidified with the heat of his cheeks. And with these feelings that serve as a cloud within the depths of his mind — clouding his vision and focus upon these present moments, it is a difficulty to manage his concentration for the present moment.

“You’re almost as stiff as you were on our wedding day.” Gently does Camilla pull herself forward, only briefly departing from shoulder so that she may view him properly. Though her words may be underlined with tease, there is no erasure of the concern that briefly paints itself about her lips in the form of a frown. “Is anything the matter?”

“No.” Again does he assert after moments of deliberation, a debate in the full admittance of the truth or the saccharine sweet thoughts have laid claim into his mind for the night. It is not fully truthful in nature nor is it a lie, just so he did not have to voice any of those romanticized sentiments. “It is a long, tiring night.”

Saizo knows well how uncharacteristic of him to be stumbling upon his words, not a touch of confidence in sight — though he supposes it is the romance that has softened him, that has made him to be like this.

“I suppose I’ll have to believe you.” Sigh parting her lips does Camilla trail fingers tenderly against his lips, as if in admiration in his own kind of roughened beauty. She has told him more than once that his beauty is alike a flame, an ever simmering heat upon the surface and yet quietly wielding all of the passion to light the sky with all of the kisses of an intense fire. And in a continuing coaxing voice did she tell him that she was all too happy to dance dangerously close to those flames — she knows that he’d not ever hurt her. And even now as she gazes upon him does wonder remain reflected in that magenta piece of glass that is her gaze, only so pleased that she has been surrounded by the flames of his beauty.

“Camilla…” Is it a sigh of defeat that finally parts his lips in response to her inquiries? Though it is more than a touch willing to give into her. And without another word does she know.

“Let me do just a little to loosen those muscles.” And instead of further detailing her intentions does Camilla lean into him, to gift him a kiss all proper rather than the teasing little touches she has given before. They have kissed one another an innumerable amount of times, but each time does he feel entranced with each and every touch and emotion that is involved, and always does he revel in the way that they have allowed themselves to open up to one another.

It remains so interesting to him on how Camilla had once been a book he could not read, far from understanding each concept written and presented and but now… She is a book that has been well loved, ever so devoted to, something that will never depart from the depths of his mind. And at the same time do they find things that they remain in awe of — from the new laughing wrinkles that has developed under her eyes to the way that she smiles believing that he does not see.

Camilla positions herself so that she may gaze upon him, the smallest of smiles straddling her lips as she notes the way that he stares at her, almost taken with a daze from their kiss. With the light of the moon touching her silvered purple hair and washing it with pure silver and her scarred face now wrinkled with endless smiles, does she appear to be some goddess that should only be found in dreams.

Well, perhaps his dreams maybe. Though there could never be denial of the way that Camilla possesses the beauty of a revered goddess.

“Is that enough relaxation for you, darling?” Simply does Camilla greet, fingers curling under his chin so that she may capture his gaze with a warm one of her own. Though Saizo remains frozen without but a murmur upon his lips as her body once more is pressed against him, no longer indulging herself in the view above him, his most only rained with dryness as her hands press against his chest bare of any clothing. The heat that has been built in his chest is searing and it flares with the pleasure he’s been given and there is little doubt there remains a flush high upon his cheekbones (a habit that has never departed from him).

“You’re a sorceress, you know that? He recognizes that his voice begins to crack, nearly descending into a state of complete and utter crumbling — though it’s not like he hasn’t been in this state before. Ragged with passion and the feeling of love painted across the cheekbones, the color of sakura blossoms in the sun. “Just one kiss and you have me undone… Like you always do. Naturally.”

“And you are always just so cute looking like that. Your face is almost as red as your hair, love.” Her fingers return to his face, a trail created upon battle scarred features, a face that she has long mapped out in their shared days with one another (and yet she keeps coming to return time after time). “I’ll never get enough of how cute you can be, darling.”

The breath of Saizo is all but stuttering, eyes that are but half-lidded as he descends into the indulgence of the affections of Camilla — it has been a long time without her and finally has he been able to put his busied thoughts to rest.

Moments pass once more before Saizo finds himself gathered in her arms, and it is a struggle just not to absolutely bask within her affections and attentions (he’ll maintain some sort of dignity — even if Camilla has seen it all before). Breath ever softening as he meets relaxation in the face, almost as if he is entranced by a sudden haze that has fallen upon him after she has given the affection that he had been so reluctant to give in those earlier moments… All because of his innermost thoughts.

And in in the midst of all of the emotions that he has felt, just by being near her and being just allowed to be loved by her does he once more realize that depths of his love (though he’s always known it, often times he does not do well when it comes to the expression of affection in words).

Only then does he sit up, eyes only widened with but a touch, drawing his fingers beneath her chin, almost seized with a desperation to make his love well known to her (even if she knows it well — he supposes that he cannot stand to be topped. Even by his love).

“I love you. I’ve loved you after all these years and I’ll continue to love you. That’s a promise.” With her warmth against him, a chuckle in his ears in her admiration of his affection for her, does he truly believe the strength of his words.


End file.
